


Midnight Oil

by JolinarJackson



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Gen, Implied/Referenced Loss of Limb, implied/referenced PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-19 11:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22176841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JolinarJackson/pseuds/JolinarJackson
Summary: After everything that has happened to Peter over the last year - or five, really - he shouldn’t be worried about something as mundane as the ACT. When he fails it, though it sends him into a spiral of self-doubt, which only gets worse when Peter realizes that he doesn’t seem to be able to fix whatever is broken.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 50
Kudos: 397
Collections: Irondad Fic Exchange 2019





	Midnight Oil

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers:** Avengers: Infinity War, Avengers: Endgame, Spider-Man: Far From Home  
>  **Setting:** After Spider-Man: Far From Home
> 
> **Author's Note:** This story takes place in a dimension in which Endgame went down slightly differently and Tony and Natasha survived. Written for the Irondad Fic Exchange. This is for rejectedmarvel and the prompt: Due to the demand of school work & saving the city, Peter chugs caffeine trying to stay up and fight the inevitable crash. Tony steps in to help. Sleep-deprived trope, soft!Tony, sleepy!Peter, Fluff. I might have gone a bit overboard with the hurt in this one, but there is quite a bit of comfort, too. I hope that you’ll enjoy it!
> 
> **Beta:** Thank you to Shoyzz-art and mogoona3000, who were more than helpful as always!

_**17** _

The number on his laptop screen cut through Peter’s mind, still cozy and relaxed from sleep, and he blinked rapidly to make sure what he was seeing was true, even going as far as to raise one hand and wipe his eyes to rub the sleep away that was clinging to the corners like a fog. He tried to ignore the way his heart had skipped a startled beat, his stomach becoming a nauseating, heavy weight. He took a breath and let it out slowly before he opened his eyes again and looked back down at his laptop. 

_**17** _

He stared at the number. “What?” 

It couldn’t be. He’d studied _so hard_ , he’d done _so well_ , how could he have only scored _**17**_?

His racing thoughts were interrupted by his phone’s buzz against the nightstand. Peter reached for it automatically, finding a message from Ned waiting for him. 

_Scored 33. What about you?_

Peter didn’t reply. He sat there, on his bed, with his laptop on his lap, reading the website again and again _and again_ … until, finally, he swallowed thickly, his eyes starting to burn, as he slowly came to grips with what had happened. 

He’d failed the ACT. 

He hadn’t even managed to get an average result. 

He’d failed so utterly that no city college would ever look even twice at him, never mind MIT. 

_He’d failed._

He pushed his laptop away, the screen now facing the wall, and sat in silence for a while, just staring at the _Star Wars_ poster on the opposite wall. His phone vibrated again and when he glanced at the lit-up screen, he could see the beginnings of a message from Tony. 

_How’d you do, kid? I thought we could celebrate_

The screen went dark. 

Peter pressed his lips together, breathing deeply through his nose in an attempt to stay calm, and tried to find an explanation. How had he failed? How had he done so badly that he hadn’t even got half of the questions right? What was _wrong_ with him? 

He closed his eyes, thinking back to the day of the test and trying to come up with a reason that wouldn’t mean he was, ultimately, an academic failure. 

He’d been tired, sure, but who hadn’t been? He’d been nervous, but again, many of the students had been. 

He shook his head. Peter had always done great in school, never had an issue with tests or presentations or being called upon in class. Academics were his _thing_. Had been his _only_ thing before he became Spider-Man. He’d promised May and Tony and himself that he would never neglect them because they were important and because his parents and Ben would have wanted him to … he had never failed a test. Had never dipped below average even in his weakest class, which was PE. He had a GPA of 4.62 in a competitive STEM school. Together with Ned and MJ, he’d done three practice tests before the ACT and he hadn’t scored lower than 28 in those.

How had he failed?! 

Then, he remembered the patrol the night before the day of the test, the one that had resulted in a fall bad enough that Tony had come all the way from the cabin in his suit to make sure he was okay. Peter had walked away from that with three fractured ribs and a light concussion, but he’d held presentations at school hiding worse injuries, so he’d brushed off Tony’s attempts to get him to call in sick for the test. He’d known it was risky to take it running on only two hours of sleep and a breakfast made up of toast and two of the energy drinks May bought to get through long shifts at the hospital. He’d had a large coffee at the café near the school where he met up with Ned and MJ to go through their flashcards one last time. By the time he’d settled into the chair to write the test, he’d felt perfectly fine, if a little jittery. 

Maybe they’d scored him wrong. Could that even _happen_? 

There was a knock on his door and then May peeked her head in. “Hey, honey, you ready for breakfast?”

Peter looked at her, not sure how to answer. 

His misery must have shown on his face, though, because May’s expression turned into one of concern. “What’s wrong?”

He opened his mouth to answer but the words wouldn’t come. He didn’t know how to tell her. 

May stepped further into the room to settle on the edge of his bed. “What’s going on?”

Slowly, as if he wanted to delay the inevitable, Peter reached for the laptop and turned it so that May could see the website. 

It was quiet for a moment, her face carefully neutral, then she heaved a sigh. “Oh, Peter.” Her arms came up around him, pulling him against her chest, his head tucked into her neck. “It’s okay.”

“I don’t get it,” Peter said forlornly. “How could I have been this bad?”

May fingers brushed his hair out of his forehead when she tilted his head to look up at her. “These things happen, Peter. Maybe you were just nervous.”

He swallowed and leaned into her, returning the hug. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to tell her that he felt as if he’d betrayed her and Ben on some level. They’d done a lot over the years to get him into a good school and had been so proud when he’d not just been admitted to Midtown High but had also won one of their scholarships. It was possible that they would have been able to afford the full fees but getting the scholarship and only having to pay partially was still a relief. Especially after Ben’s death. The tears were pushing closer to the surface, even though he tried to suppress them. 

May sighed. “It’s not the end of the world. You can take the test again. Maybe you just had an off day, you know? You _did_ get hurt on patrol the night before, maybe you should have called in sick.”

Peter curled up tighter. “Maybe.” 

She pressed a kiss against his temple. “I love you, baby,” she whispered. 

He relaxed into her embrace, wiping his eyes before any tears could escape. His phone buzzed again and he saw another message from Tony. 

_I may or may not have bought MIT merchandise_

He looked away quickly, feeling his chest tighten again. Tony. How was he supposed to explain this to him? He’d talked so much about MIT the last couple of months, had even suggested that they’d go on a roadtrip there in summer, just the two of them. He swallowed. 

Tony would be disappointed. Peter just knew he would be. And after everything they’d been through since they’d hitchhiked a ride through the universe: Peter dying, then coming back, Tony almost dying soon after, all those sleepless nights in the hospital while Tony had been in a coma, the irreversible damage to his arm and face … he’d told Peter once that he almost wouldn’t have done it, that he almost would have turned his back on the idea of reversing what Thanos had done. But he hadn’t. Because of Peter. Because he’d seen a real chance to get him back and he’d taken it. 

Tony, who had always been there for him, who’d believed in Spider-Man when nobody else had, who’d personally made sure that Beck’s plan to leak Peter’s identity to the world backfired while still laid up in hospital … there was no way Peter could tell him about this, that he could disappoint him like this. And maybe he wouldn’t have to. “May?” 

“Yes.” 

“Can we not tell Tony?”

May stilled. “He knows that you took the test, doesn’t he?”

He shrugged. “Maybe I’ll just tell him I passed, you know? That I scored 26 or something but that I want to take it again and do better.”

May released her hold on him to look into his eyes. “That’s not a good idea, Peter.”

“Please,” he said. “I can’t … I can’t tell _Tony Stark_ that I only scored 17 on my ACT. I just _can’t_.”

May seemed to hesitate, but finally, she sighed deeply and shook her head. “Okay, fine. I won’t mention it to him.”

Peter nodded and promised, “I’ll do better next time.”

“Of course you will,” she answered and smiled. 

***

“I don’t get it,” Ned said, frowning at him. “We studied together, you did better on the practice exams than I did. It doesn’t make any sense that you scored so low.”

“I know,” Peter answered, avoiding Ned’s eyes and poking at his peas listlessly. The school canteen was busy and loud, but they had claimed their usual table in the corner where it was a little more quiet and nobody would be able to overhear. The last thing Peter needed right now was Flash finding out about the test. 

MJ was sitting closer to him than usual, leaning into him just a little bit, one of her hands brushing his arm now and again when she reached for her water. “It sucks,” she said, direct as always, “but it was only one test. You can take it again.” 

It might have sounded blunt and uncaring to people who didn’t understand MJ, but Peter knew that she cared. She had the unrelenting tendency to look forward instead of backwards and he comprehended her words as what they were meant to be: encouragement. 

Unfortunately, he wasn’t really in the mood to be encouraged, so he just shrugged. He didn’t really want to talk about the ACT anymore. He hadn’t even wanted to start talking about it in the first place but not telling Ned or MJ wasn’t an option. Lying to Tony over the phone had been hard enough and only possible because Tony had been unable to see his face. He’d never been a good liar and this, unlike Spider-Man, wasn’t something he could just hide by omission. 

Ned hummed thoughtfully. “ _Maybe_ ,” he said, “they scored you incorrectly or something.”

Peter looked up at him in skeptically. “That doesn’t happen, does it?”

Ned shrugged. “It _can_ happen, I guess.”

MJ shook her head. “Guys, it rarely ever happens.”

“’Rarely’ is not ‘never’,” Ned said.

Sighing, MJ replied, “Well, you _could_ contact them and ask for clarification. Costs you a few bucks, but you could do it.”

“You don’t think I should,” Peter guessed, frowning. 

She hesitated. “You _did_ fall pretty badly the night before the test, Pete. Maybe you were hurt worse than you thought.” 

Peter thought about that. It was possible. It was a good explanation. Maybe … “Maybe you’re right.” He took a deep breath and looked at them with a smile he hoped didn’t look entirely fake. “I’ll retake the test at the end of this month. I registered already.”

MJ frowned, but Ned was the first of them to speak. “Already?” he asked. “Don’t you think you should wait until February? We’ve got all these tests coming up and that presentation in AP Chemistry in two weeks. We haven’t even started. And don’t forget about AP Research, Mr. Biel wants our topics and the outline of the thesis before winter break.”

Peter’s heart sank. “Crap,” he muttered. “I forgot about that. I haven’t even started.”

“Because we wanted to do that after the ACTs.”

Peter sighed. “I’ll have to manage, I guess.”

MJ didn’t look convinced. “Taking the test in February would give you time to ask for verification. Maybe it’s all a false alarm, Pete.” 

He shook his head. “I registered already. I’ll figure something out to manage. Maybe I’ll cut back on patrol time.”

It was quiet for a long moment. Peter tried to distract himself by checking his phone, but he didn’t have any new messages. 

Ned cleared his throat softly, hesitating a second more before he asked, “What did Mr. Stark say?”

“He doesn’t know,” Peter answered, not meeting their eyes. “He thinks I scored 26. I told him I’m retaking the test to get a higher score for MIT.”

Frowning, Ned asked, “Why don’t you tell him the truth?”

“Because he’s Tony Stark,” Peter snapped, lowering his voice when two of the students at a nearby table turned their heads in his direction. “He’s a genius, who _actually_ thinks I’m worth his time, so why would I tell him that I can’t even manage an average ACT score?”

MJ took his hand, squeezing his fingers. “Pete, just because he wants you to go MIT doesn’t mean you have to.” 

“I _know_ that,” he answered. “I’m just …” He took a deep breath. “I can’t tell him.”

Ned hummed thoughtfully. “Aren’t you scared he’ll find out?”

“He won’t,” Peter said. “Because I’m retaking the test and I will score higher and it’s gonna be fine.” He moved to stand up. “It’s gonna be just fine.”

***

When Peter pulled into the driveway leading up to the Starks’ cabin, the light drizzle from an hour ago had developed into a torrent and the ground was a maze of muddy puddles. Peter parked underneath a tall pine tree and sent a quick message to May to let her know he’d arrived safely before he grabbed his overnight bag and the school backpack from the passenger seat and got out of the car. The small, blue Audi had been a birthday present from Pepper, which Peter had only felt comfortable accepting because it was a used car and because it had given him the chance to visit Tony in the DODC facility he’d been transported to after the battle. 

Now that Tony had woken up from his coma and mostly recovered, Peter drove to the cabin at least once a month over the weekend to visit. Sometimes, Tony would visit Peter in New York as well, staying at a penthouse near Queensboro Bridge him and Pepper had bought a couple of years ago. None of them had been back to the Compound since the battle, mainly because there wasn’t much to see. The facility was being rebuilt under Natasha and Rhodey’s careful watch, but progress was slow, the remains of the battle still visible. Tony had shown Peter some pictures Rhodey had sent him of what had been the battlefield; the downed spaceships had looked like beached whales, the ground burnt and scarred. Peter didn’t want to go back there, not when it was prone to remind him of the battle, which he saw enough of in his nightmares. He knew that Tony felt the same. 

Rain was beating down on him as soon as he left the cover of the pine. The air up here smelled clean and woodsy, even in this weather. Dark clouds were hanging over the cabin and the lake, and puddles splashed when Peter made a run for the protective veranda roof, warm lights spilling out of the windows invitingly. 

The cabin door opened when he’d just reached the veranda. He dropped his bags to catch Morgan as she threw herself at him with a happy squeal. “Peter,” she said, her dark eyes lit up with excitement. Her little arms wrapped around his neck in a clumsy hug. 

“Hey, Morgan.” He squeezed her close for a moment before settling her on his hip and picking up his bags with his free hand. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” Morgan answered, grinning at him. “I have a surprise for you.”

“You _do_?” Peter asked, putting on an enthusiastic face. “What is it?”

“It’s not a surprise if I tell you.”

Tony was waiting at the door, his healthy arm crossed over the artificial one and a smile on his face. The scars marring the right side of his neck and face were looking less prominent than when Peter had last seen him. “Hey, kid,” he said, pulling Peter in to give him a quick, one-armed hug before he took Morgan from him. She made a protesting noise, but Tony shushed her. “Let Pete get settled before monopolizing him,” he said, setting her down. “I think Mommy asked you to help her set the table.” 

Morgan gave an irritated huff of breath that made Peter grin in amusement and ran off to join Pepper on the other side of the room that housed the kitchen. Pepper turned away from the stove to smile at him widely. “Hey, Peter.”

He waved at her with a smile. 

“How was the drive? Good?” Tony asked.

Peter shrugged. “Yeah, it was alright.”

“You look tired,” Tony commented, closing the door. 

Peter smiled thinly. “It’s a bit busy at the moment.”

Tony slung his healthy arm around his shoulders and lead him to the dining table. “Coffee?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

“Have a seat.”

Rapid footsteps approached and Peter had just enough time to brace himself before Morgan was already climbing onto his lap and shoving a piece of paper into his face. “Surprise!” 

Peter took the paper and held it further away, staring at a drawing. There were two people in the picture, one tall and wearing a yellow backpack that Peter recognized as his own and another shorter with long brown hair. They were holding hands, standing next to a building that was labelled ‘MIT’ in untidy, scrawly writing. His heart skipped a beat.

“Daddy helped me with the letters”, Morgan said, grinning proudly at him. 

Peter stared at the picture, his jaw clenching.

“Do you like it?” Morgan asked. She was frowning, as if she felt that something was wrong.

“It’s great,” Peter said quickly and pasted on a smile. 

Morgan grinned. “That’s me,” she said, pointing at the little girl, “visiting you.”

“Awesome.”

“Morgan, come on, you can help me with the pasta,” Pepper said and Morgan slid off Peter’s lap to join her. 

Peter stared down at the picture, a heavy knot forming in his stomach. 

Tony set down a mug of coffee and put a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

Peter looked up at him, blinking rapidly to try and shake off the thought of the ACT. “Yeah, sure. Just tired.” 

***

By the time the credits for _Frozen_ began to roll, Peter was half-asleep. He was tucked into one of the comfortable armchairs scattered around the living room, Morgan cuddled up next to him with a bowl of popcorn on her lap, while Tony and Pepper were seated on the couch. Pepper checked her watch and heaved a deep breath. Pushing out of her seat, she nudged Tony awake gently, before holding out a hand towards Morgan. “Bedtime, honey.”

Clinging to Peter’s arm, Morgan stared up at Pepper pleadingly. “But I have a playdate.” 

“Theoretically,” Pepper said, “Peter is _Daddy’s_ playdate.”

“Daddy is too old for playdates.”

Tony huffed a breath. “Ouch.”

“Come on, Madame,” Pepper said, and Morgan made a disgruntled face before taking her mother’s hand. 

“Night, Peter,” she said, smiling at him brightly.

“Night.”

Morgan jumped on Tony’s lap to press a kiss against his cheek, giggling when Tony’s fingers tickled her ribs for a moment. He wrapped his arms around her and whispered, “Love you, baby.” 

Then Pepper and Morgan went upstairs, Morgan chattering about something her teacher had said about frogs.

Tony took a deep breath and yawned, stretching out his legs and turning his head to look at Peter. “You wanna head to the garage?” 

Peter sighed, sinking into the chair a little further. “I’m pretty beat.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

It was quiet for a moment, only the rain hitting the windows tapping softly. It was only half past eight, way too early for Peter to actually go to sleep, but he felt tired. Since getting the ACT results a couple of days ago, he had been studying for the next test, staying up later than usual to fit school, homework, patrolling and studying into his schedule. He hadn’t quite managed to cut back on patrol time as planned, feeling too guilty whenever he considered calling it an early night. Being Spider-Man was too important to him, especially since he still felt he had to make up for being gone for over a week for his trip to Europe. So he hadn’t cut back on patrol, settling down to study when he returned home, battling his exhaustion and hunger with energy drinks and unhealthy snacks. 

“You know, you did good,” Tony said. “In the test.”

Peter ducked his head. He felt guilty for lying, but there was no way out of it now. “I could have done better.”

“Probably,” Tony said. He paused for a long moment before he added, “For MIT, you’ll _need_ to do a little better.”

Peter pressed his lips together, his hands curling into fists. He was still not meeting Tony’s eyes, even though he felt he was being watched.

“Or is that not the plan anymore?” Tony asked softly.

Peter swallowed and looked up at him. “I don’t know.”

Tony hummed thoughtfully before he cleared his throat and said, “MIT is the right place for you. I might be biased, there are many good schools but … I think you belong there.” 

Peter smiled thinly, trying to make it seem like he was joking. “I have to get in first.”

“That shouldn’t be an issue,” Tony said, shrugging. “Your GPA is great, you’ll do better on your ACT, I’ll write a recommendation, and you’re set.”

Peter nodded. “Sounds like a plan,” he said. 

Tony switched off the DVD player and they watched the news for a little while, though neither of them really focused. Tony’s eyes kept drooping. Peter knew that he sometimes struggled with the tiring side-effects of his medication and tonight seemed to be one of those nights. 

He decided to let Tony get some rest. “I think I might head to bed.”

Tony’s eyes opened, slightly startled, and he wiped a hand down his face. “Already?”

He sat up, stretching his limbs. “I don’t know, the drive was exhausting, and school was a lot the past few weeks, so …”

“It’s fine,” Tony said. “You know where your room is.”

Peter got up, folding the blanket Morgan had used and setting it onto the chair. “Hey,” he said, catching Tony’s attention, “let’s do a garage night tomorrow.”

“We could order pizza,” Tony answered, a grin sneaking onto his features.

Peter smiled back. “Perfect.” 

He went to grab his bags and go upstairs but paused when Tony said, “Peter?” 

“Hm?” He looked back at him.

“A score of 26 is great and I’m proud. Just in case I didn’t say it.”

Peter swallowed and forced a smile. “You did.” 

Tony nodded. “Okay. Just … wanted to make sure.”

Upstairs, Peter hurried quietly past Morgan’s to make sure that her night routine wasn’t disturbed. There was a small room set aside for him which he used whenever he came to visit. It had a bed, a desk, a dresser and an armchair by the window which overlooked the lake. There were only a couple of books and some clothes stored here, but despite its lack of personality, the room was comfy, and Peter liked it a lot. He closed the door softly and stood there for a moment, undecided. He was quite tired but the conversation with Tony still haunted him. He decided that, since he didn’t have to patrol tonight, he should take advantage of that and quickly rifled through his backpack until he found the practice book he used to study for the ACT. 

He settled at the desk and opened it. 

***

Peter swung to land on the rooftop of his apartment building, cursing softly when he saw the time in the upper corner of his HUD. He was home before his curfew, but still later than he had intended to be. December was rapidly approaching and the colder the weather got, the more crime seemed to be on the rise. 

Which wasn’t good news for Peter’s plan to cut down on patrols to study for the ACT. 

He slid into his room through the window and changed into sweatpants and a comfy t-shirt before he headed for the kitchen. He rubbed his temple with a wince. When he entered the kitchen, the bright lights felt like they were piercing themselves into his skull and he quickly switched them off, leaving the room in the soft glow the lamps from the living room threw through the door. He leaned against the counter and breathed against a bout of nausea. For a few days now, he’d developed the tendency to get more or less vicious headaches in the afternoon, which only cleared up overnight. Unfortunately, they also set his enhanced senses on edge, which made the whole experience worse than it had any right to be. He was pretty sure it had to do with stress, so there was no other way but to live with it for now.

“Hey, sweetie,” May said, looking away from the tv to smile at him. “You’re early.”

“Yeah, gotta study,” Peter answered and opened the fridge, getting an energy drink and butter out. He popped two slices of toast into the toaster and stepped into the living room, sipping his drink.

May was sitting in her usual spot on the couch, watching _Grey’s Anatomy_ and going through what looked like a pile of bills. “How did that Spanish test go today?” she asked, pushing her glasses up her nose. 

Peter swallowed. It hadn’t gone as well as he’d wanted it to. Just like the Physics test the day before. He forced a smile and shrugged, ducking his head. “Not sure, May.” 

Her lips turned down in sympathy and she got up to step around the couch and cup his face, turning him to look at her. Her thumb rubbed under his eye. “You look tired.” 

“It’s just school,” Peter answered with a shake of his head, “and patrol and the ACT.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe you should skip this ACT and register for the appointment in February instead.”

Peter rubbed his forehead. “I _can’t_ , I already told Tony I’d take it.”

May’s face creased into an unhappy frown. “I’m sure he’d understand.”

Peter turned away from her, getting the toast out of the toaster and starting to slather it in butter while it was still warm. “I’ll manage,” he said. “It’s just until winter break.”

May sighed but didn’t say anything else, retreating back to the couch. “One hour,” she said. “Your curfew would have started in one hour, that’s the time I give you for studying. Then you go to bed, okay?”

Peter sighed, his mental list of things he had to cover this evening too long to be done in just one hour. There was a History test coming up and he still had to draft an outline for AP Research and read what Ned had done so for their joint Chemistry presentation. He felt bad enough already that Ned had been working on it on his own until now. “May-” 

“Peter.” 

“Fine,” he muttered. 

“I’ll check.” 

He rolled his eyes.

“I saw that.”

“No, you didn’t,” he muttered and grabbed the plate with toast and the energy drink before moving towards his room. 

“Yes, I did,” May called after him, a smile in her voice. 

***

Peter went to bed when May came in to check on him and he intended to sleep for a few of hours and then get up at four to finish studying. But an hour had gone by and he couldn’t fall asleep. He probably shouldn’t have had that energy drink. He’d noticed that, while caffeine was working better for him after the bite than it did before, it also tended to work too well. But he needed the caffeine to not fall asleep while studying, so he prioritized.

Needless to say, he hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep recently.

If Tony and May knew, they would probably put a stop to it. He hadn’t even told MJ or Ned, suspecting that they wouldn’t be in favor either.

He sighed and turned onto his back, staring at the ceiling. Only a couple more weeks and the ACT would be over, and everything would go back to a normal routine.

At least his headache was clearing up and his senses were less frazzled. 

He considered getting back up to study a bit longer, but he could see light spilling underneath the door and heard the tv, so May was still up. There was no way he’d be able to study while she was awake. She had a sixth sense when it came to knowing that Peter was up past his bedtime and had caught him more than a few times during his childhood when he’d tried to read under his covers. 

He sighed, turning onto his side and closing his eyes. He’d read somewhere that falling asleep was easier if a person laid perfectly still for twenty minutes …

Thirty minutes later, he was still awake. 

The tv was turned off and the light in the corridor went out, followed by the sound of the master bedroom’s door closing. May had gone to bed. 

Peter waited another twenty minutes and then got out of bed to settle down at his desk and power up his laptop. 

***

Peter got a C in Spanish and a B in Physics. He knew that his oral participation was going down as well. Some of his teachers started to call upon him to answer questions even when he didn’t raise his hand, which was a sign that they thought he wasn’t doing enough. When that happened, he sometimes didn’t even know the answer. His brain felt scrambled a lot recently, it was like there was so much information crammed into it that he couldn’t focus properly. 

His GPA dropped to 4.24. 

It wasn’t a disaster, it was still good enough, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. 

Ned, MJ and Peter met up every day after school to study for the next ACT test. Ned and MJ had signed up to take it as well, not just out of solidarity, but because they wanted to try and score higher as well. The test was in one week and Peter had caught even less sleep in the last three nights. He tried to hide it from May, but she still seemed to know, her worried eyes resting on him whenever he was in sight. 

School and the ACT had slowly started to make their way into Peter’s patrol time as well when he’d realized that he could program flashcards for Karen to test him on. That way, he could spend the time he was swinging or waiting for something to happen with studying, which made him feel a little better about going out on patrol at all. 

It was during one of those study sessions, while Peter was sitting on the edge of a rooftop and Karen was patiently quizzing him for his upcoming History test even though Peter kept mixing up the dates and events repeatedly, that Tony called. They hadn’t spoken since he’d last visited a couple of weeks ago, but that was pretty normal. They texted on a daily basis and Peter knew that Tony was keeping an eye on Karen’s readings during patrol. 

_“Hey, kid, how are you doing?”_

“Fine,” he answered and knew one moment later that the answer was a bad idea. Tony and May had this weird co-parenting thing going on, which meant they _talked_ on a regular basis. About _Peter_. “A little stressed,” he amended. 

_“Yeah, May mentioned,”_ Tony said. _“But you can handle it, right?”_

“Sure.”

_“Good. I’m calling about Christmas.”_

Peter raised his eyebrows, surprised. “Christmas?” 

_“Yeah, me and Pepper have been thinking about spending it in the city. Morgan loves the lights and New York’s got plenty of those. We’re planning a big dinner on Christmas Eve. Rhodey’s gonna be there and if May comes, I think Happy will join as well.”_

This caused a grimace to flit over Peter’s features. “Ew.” 

Tony chuckled. _“Still sore about that, are you?”_

“It’s just … weird.” He hadn’t quite come to terms with the fact that Happy and May were tentatively dating, yet. “As if she’s dating my teacher or something.”

Tony laughed. _“So, what do you say?”_

“Uh … yeah, sure.”

_“Great.”_

“Will anybody else join?” Peter asked out of curiosity. He knew that the other Avengers were busy most of the time. He hadn’t seen some of them since the battle.

_“Wilson and Barnes are off somewhere doing something for the DODC, so I don’t think they will. Nat said something about a vacation at the beach, which, coincidentally, is also Bruce’s excuse. The space crew hasn’t been in touch and Wanda is still in Wakanda.”_

“What about Dr. Strange?”

_“I’m not inviting Strange,”_ Tony answered, and he sounded offended. _“He’s a douchebag.”_

Peter chuckled. “Come on, Tony, you probably don’t like him because he reminds you of someone.” 

_“What?”_ Tony asked. _“Who?”_

Peter grinned. “You.”

Tony scoffed. _“I regret inviting_ you _right now.”_

“No take-backs,” Peter answered, grinning happily. The banter was familiar ground, comforting in a way that not many things were right now. 

_“How’s studying for the ACT going? It’s in a week, isn’t it?”_

“Yeah,” Peter answered, grimacing. He looked at the flashcard statistics in the bottom left corner, seeing that he’d failed to answer more than half of the questions correctly. “It’s going good, I guess.”

_“You just keep at it, you’ll manage to score higher.”_

“I hope so,” Peter said.

_“I_ know _so. Call me after the test, okay?”_

“Okay. Bye, Tony.”

_“Bye, kid.”_

***

A few days before the actual ACTs, Peter, Ned and MJ decided to take practice tests while studying at Ned’s place. They’d settled around the big dining table in the kitchen, making use of the fact that Ned’s parents weren’t home. 

Peter knew he wasn’t delivering his best even while he was filling the test out, his focus straying and hard to put back on track. He filled in all the answers, but he didn’t have a good feeling when he handed the test over to Ned for scoring. 

Ned gave him a smile. “Dude, I don’t think you need to be that worried.”

Peter didn’t answer, instead huddling over MJ’s test to score. She got 31, which was less than her ACT score had been. He watched her grade Ned’s test, but was distracted when Ned cleared his throat. Peter noticed the tense set of his shoulders and his nervous expression. A ball of lead started to form in his stomach. “What?”

Ned grimaced. “Dude …” 

He exchanged a look with MJ that made Peter feel as if they’d been talking about him behind his back. Angrily, he snatched the test out of Ned’s hand. “ _What_?” 

_**14.** _

“Shit!” His throat closed up and he felt his eyes burn.

MJ’s hand touched his arm. “Pete …” 

He moved his arm away, standing up to take a few steps back. He shouldn’t have been surprised, he hadn’t done well in his flashcard sessions with Karen and he hadn’t done well while studying with Ned and MJ … which was probably the reason they’d exchanged that _knowing look_. He pushed his hands into his hair, pulling until it hurt. His heart was beating hard against his ribcage and he felt like he was close to panicking. He shouldn’t be. It was just a stupid test … but he’d studied so much during the last few weeks, why couldn’t he do _better_? He’d done even _worse_ than before! 

Ned was trying to do damage control. “Maybe it’s just … maybe you just got distracted or …”

Peter closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. “What am I going to do?”

MJ got up from her seat, taking one of his hands between hers. Her dark eyes stared at him earnestly as she slowly said, “It’s just a practice test.”

Peter’s shoulders slumped.

Ned gave a nod. “It’s not a big deal.”

Peter felt a flash of anger. “Not a big deal?!” he snapped, yanking his hand away from MJ and pinning Ned with a scathing look. “This decides whether I’ll be able to go to MIT! Or forget MIT, with this score, I won’t even be able to go to a regular college!”

MJ frowned at him. “Calm down.” 

Peter glared at her. “Easy for _you_ to say,” he answered and snagged his backpack off the floor before he left Ned’s apartment, slamming the door shut on his way out. 

He didn’t go downstairs, instead running up the stairs until he’d reached the roof. He huddled by the AC unit for a long while, the biting winter wind adding to the burn of tears in his eyes. 

***

Peter felt guilty for the rest of the day. He hadn’t meant to lose his temper like that, especially towards MJ and Ned, who had been nothing but supportive in the last few months. Coming back from the Blip had brought them closer together, the three of them facing a world that had moved on for five years without them. Ned’s younger brother was now his older brother and MJ’s father had remarried shortly before MJ and her mother had come back. 

In a weird way, Peter had been lucky. 

May had been dusted as well and they were still the same people they had been before the Blip. 

In the aftermath of it all, Peter had noticed that he liked MJ more than as a friend he was grateful that a girl like her would even be interested in him. 

He knew that he had to patch things up. 

When he left after dinner to get some patrol in, he first made his way towards the apartment MJ and her mother were living in and crouched on the fire escape outside her bedroom window. MJ was sitting on her bed and going through school notes, looking up in surprise when he knocked on the window. She got up to lock her bedroom door while Peter climbed through the window and took off his mask. “Hey.” 

MJ leaned back against her bedroom door. “Hey.” 

Peter ducked his head, fiddling with the mask nervously. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking at MJ again. 

She nodded. “I reckoned.” With a sigh, she pushed away from the door and pulled him into a hug. 

He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck, breathing in the subtle scent of the perfume she’d worn on their first date. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she said. 

Peter smiled, pulling back to place a lingering kiss against her lips. 

She entwined her fingers on the back of his neck, her thumb stroking against his hairline. “Why’d you go all Mr. Hide on us?” 

He shook his head. “I just … I’ve been feeling a little out of control.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “How are your nightmares?”

“It’s got nothing to do with the PTSD,” Peter answered. “I’m fine.”

MJ scoffed. “I hate to break it you, but even Stark’s fancy therapists cannot cure PTSD in under a year. Ned and I’ve been talking and maybe that’s why you’re failing.” Peter shook his head, but MJ continued, “This year’s been tough, coming back from the Blip and everything that happened with Beck and catching up with school and _life_ and all the tests before winter break and the presentation and AP Research.”

Peter huffed a laugh he didn’t quite feel. “That happened to you, too, though. _You’re_ not failing.”

MJ raised one eyebrow. “Parker, we’re nowhere _near_ the same level of messed-up. I returned from the Blip, yes, and I’ve got school stuff and my dad being an ass, but you … you came back to fight in a _war_. And Stark almost died. And you were just starting to get things back under control when Beck happened.” She paused, hesitant, before she added, “I don’t know, Peter, maybe it’s too much. Maybe Spider-Man should take a break.” 

“And who’d take care of the neighborhood, then?” Peter asked.

“You need to take care of yourself first.”

Peter shook his head. “It’s _my_ responsibility, MJ. I _want_ to do it. I can’t just stop.”

“You’re shaking, Peter,” MJ said solemnly. 

For a moment, it was quiet, as Peter processed that MJ was right. His hands were trembling, his jaw clenched tightly. He made a conscious effort to relax. “It’s cold outside.”

MJ sighed. “I’m just worried.”

Peter ducked his head. “I know. Thanks.” He stepped away from her and put the mask on. “But I’ll be fine. It’s just a few more weeks.” He slid out of the window and turned back once to wave at MJ before swinging away to head to Ned’s place.

***

Peter took another practice test when he was at the cabin over the weekend. 

He’d started studying after his arrival and dinner with the family yesterday and had continued until the early hours of the morning before he’d gone to bed, just to realize that he was unable to sleep and settling back down at the desk. He’d only reluctantly gone down to have breakfast with Tony this morning and had skipped lunch altogether, only emerging from his room to stock up on snacks and the energy drink he’d asked Tony to buy for his stay. 

He took the test when the delicious smell of a home cooked meal started to make its way to his room, his stomach grumbling in response. He was scoring the results when somebody knocked on the door. Peter quickly shoved the test underneath the ACT book and looked at Tony. “Hey.” 

“Hey,” Tony answered, looking around the room as if he suspected something strange hiding in the corners. “Dinner will be ready in ten.”

Peter smiled. “Okay, great.”

“Are you gonna spend some time with us after?” Tony asked. “Morgan’s been asking.”

Peter rubbed his forehead. “I … I gotta study.”

Tony crossed his arms. “Don’t take this the wrong way, buddy, but why did you come here for the weekend if all you do is sit in your room and study?”

A flicker of annoyance made Peter press his lips together. “I’m just … school’s busy, okay?”

Tony stepped closer. “Listen, I’m not saying you’re not welcomed when you’ve got school stuff to do, but you arrived yesterday, and we only got to see you for about an hour. Morgan’s sad. You know she adores you, Peter, spend at least a couple of hours with her, if you don’t have any time to spend with me or Pepper.”

Peter winced. He started to feel a little guilty. “Sorry,” he whispered. “It’s just … the ACT and I’ve got a presentation to prepare. I’ll … I’ll play with her tomorrow before I leave, okay?”

Tony hummed thoughtfully, his eyes lingering on Peter’s face for a long moment. “Is there anything you’d like to talk about, Pete?”

“What?” He shook his head. “No, why?”

“How’s therapy going?”

Peter’s fingers curled into fists. “Therapy’s going fine,” he said, annoyed. “Why does everyone think that I’m damaged or something?”

Tony let the words hang between them for a moment, then he shook his head. “I don’t think that you’re damaged. I just think that you look tired and that you’re not taking care of yourself properly.” Before Peter could give a snide answer, Tony said, “I’ve been there, buddy.”

“Well, I’m not like _you_ ,” Peter answered. 

Tony sighed. “I’m just saying, Pete, that I’m here if you want to talk.”

Peter turned his head away, staring at the ACT book to avoid Tony’s eyes. It was going to be fine, he told himself, just a few more days.

“Fine,” Tony said. “Come down for dinner, okay?”

Peter nodded quickly and Tony left. 

He could hear Tony’s steps walking down the stairs and picked up on Pepper asking, “So?” 

“No luck.”

Peter quickly knocked on the desk to focus his hearing somewhere else. He didn’t want to listen to them talk about him as if he was a problem. 

When he finished scoring the test and the _**12**_ glared up at him from the page, though, he couldn’t help but feel as if he was one. 

A sudden bout of anger and frustration took hold of him and he grabbed the half-full bottle of energy drink and threw it against the wall by the door. The drink spilled onto the carpet as the bottle landed, the plastic cracked upon impact.

***

Peter skyped with Ned for a while after dinner, talking about their Chemistry presentation. Ned had done almost all the work, leaving Peter to prepare three slides with their conclusions. He promised to send them to Ned in a couple of hours and ended the call. 

While he was typing up ideas, the door to his room cracked open and Morgan poked her head in. She came over to Peter’s desk. “What are you doing?” 

“Studying,” Peter answered distractedly.

Morgan leaned against the desk, her arms crossed over his Chemistry book. “Can I help?”

“Not really.” He pushed her back gently, leafing through the book. “Go look for Tony or Pepper, okay?”

“They’re dancing.”

Peter paused and frowned in confusion. “What?” 

“In the kitchen. They’re dancing and kissing.” She pulled a face.

Peter focused back on his laptop, typing three more bullet points as Morgan watched quietly.

Then she asked, “What are you studying?”

“I’m doing a presentation.”

“For what?”

“School.”

Morgan leaned against his chair. “I had to do a presentation in kindergarten and I told them about Gerald.” 

Peter sighed, slightly annoyed. “That’s great. Why don’t you go play in your room for a little while?”

“I want to play with you.”

“Not tonight.”

“You said that yesterday. And it’s my bedtime soon.” She poked his ribs. “Please.”

“Morgan,” Peter said, exasperated, “this isn’t a good time.”

Her voice took on the irritated tone she used whenever she didn’t get her way. “But you promised that next time you’re here, we’d build a fort.”

He turned a page in his book. “We can build a fort tomorrow.”

She put her hand on the book, blocking his view. “I want to now.”

“Morgan!” Peter snapped. He took her shoulder and pushed her back a few steps. He made sure she didn’t fall, but he wasn’t exactly gentle either. “I can’t right now.”

She stared at him, her dark eyes starting to swim. “You’re mean.”

He glared at her. “And you’re annoying. Get lost.”

She punched his thigh. Her tiny fist barely had an impact, it didn’t even hurt. At least not physically. Emotionally, Peter felt as if he’d been slapped. And suddenly, he was incredibly sorry. She turned and ran before he could say so, though, her small feet thundering down the steps as she called for Pepper.

Peter buried his face in his hands. “Shit.” He tried to breathe, his chest feeling tight and his lungs clogged. He wiped his eyes and took a deep breath. 

The door to his room opened and Tony came in, his face hard. “Hey,” he said, “ _not_ okay.”

“Tony, I-”

“She’s a little girl, Peter. She just wants you to play with her, what is your problem?”

Peter swallowed. “I …” He faltered. He didn’t even know anymore.

Tony shook his head. “You better work on your attitude until tomorrow.”

With that, he turned away and left, firmly closing the door to Peter’s room. 

***

Peter left his room an hour later, knowing that Morgan would be in bed already. He wanted to speak to Tony and apologize, but when he entered the corridor, he saw there was still light spilling out of Morgan’s room and when he got closer, he heard Tony’s voice … singing. He stopped outside the door and listened, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes. He didn’t know that Tony could sing, had only heard him hum along to songs up until now. 

Morgan giggled and Tony laughed, the song interrupted. 

Peter, feeling like an intruder all of a sudden, pulled himself away from the scene and went downstairs. 

He opened the fridge, getting out an energy drink and some bread, butter and cold cuts.

“Hey,” Pepper said, heading towards the kettle.

“Hey,” Peter answered.

“Are you okay?” Pepper asked. 

Peter shrugged, focusing on his sandwich. He didn’t want to look at Pepper and see her face set into the same disappointed expression Tony had worn. He was surprised when her hand touched his shoulder, her fingers squeezing gently.

“Don’t feel too bad about Morgan,” she said. “She’s not going to hold a grudge. Just apologize tomorrow.” 

Peter swallowed against a lump in his throat and dared to meet her eyes. She was smiling softly at him. He felt like he didn’t deserve it. “Tony’s pretty mad.”

“Tony’s overprotective of her, you know that,” Pepper replied. “I’m not saying you were in the right, but siblings fight and you’re as close to being siblings as you could be at this point.” 

When Peter was little, he’d wanted a sibling. A little sister. He remembered pestering Ben and May about it for a while before growing older and giving up on the idea. Getting to know Morgan had been as if his wish had finally been granted, although belatedly. That was one of the reasons he cherished their relationship so much. And tonight, he hadn’t just disappointed her, he’d also disappointed Tony and very likely also Pepper, who had opened their home to him when they really didn’t have any reason to. 

Peter looked down at the sandwich again, afraid Pepper would see the tears hovering in the corner of his eyes. 

But it was too late apparently, because she stepped a little closer. “What’s wrong, Peter?”

He sobbed and put a hand over his mouth a moment later, startled by the sound himself. He tried to reign himself in, tried to gain back control, but he was just so _tired_ and _unhappy_ and _angry_ at himself … and Pepper’s arms came around him and he was pulled into a hug, his head tucked against her shoulder. And he couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. 

He just felt frustrated and empty. 

So he cried. Pepper’s hands brushed along his back soothingly, one coming up to cradle the back of his head.

His ears picked up on footsteps coming down the stairs and pause, and then he heard Pepper whisper “I don’t know”, probably in response to a wordless question from Tony. He was turned and Pepper’s arms were replaced by Tony’s, his grip firmer but not any less gentle. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispered between sobs. “I’m sorry.”

Tony made a shushing noise, his fingers burying themselves in Peter’s hair. 

***

“Are you going to talk about it?” Tony asked. 

Peter looked down at his half-eaten sandwich. “I don’t really want to.” 

It was quiet for a long moment. Pepper had gone upstairs a while ago, leaving them sitting at the dinner table. Tony was nursing a cup of tea and Peter was trying to finish the sandwich. He wasn’t that hungry anymore.

Finally, Tony shifted slightly and said, “I won’t force you.” He smiled when Peter glanced at him, his dark eyes warm. 

Peter warred with himself, feeling torn between continuing to deny and just coming clean. He picked at his sandwich, slowly tearing it in half.

“Just tell me,” Tony continued in that same gentle, calm voice, “that you’re taking care of yourself.”

Peter knew what Tony was thinking was going on. He had to admit that it was a logical conclusion and for a moment, he was tempted to let it stand … but then he thought about how supportive Tony had been about Peter’s PTSD since he’d woken from his coma, how he always seemed to know what to do or say to calm him down when Peter startled out of a nightmare or when he was in the throes of a panic attack. Peter had Tony’s number on speed dial for when his own mind overwhelmed him, when a flashback struck during patrol or he was too tired to get up in the morning. Tony’s, not May’s. Because Tony knew what it was like. Which was the reason he couldn’t blame this on the PTSD. It felt like a betrayal, a cheap excuse, so he answered, “It’s not the PTSD.” 

Tony sipped his tea. “You’ve been tired lately, you look downright exhausted, you’ve been moody and distant. May’s worried.”

Peter shrugged. “I’ve got a lot going on.”

Tony huffed a breath. 

“It’s … a lot. School and patrol and the ACTs and … MJ and Ned and you guys. It’s _a lot_.”

“The ACTs,” Tony said thoughtfully, as if an idea had just struck him. 

Peter felt his eyes on him, steady and calculating. It made him nervous. He shifted on his chair, trying to avoid Tony’s gaze.

“Let me ask you something,” Tony said finally, “and you can decide whether to answer or not, okay? Totally up to you.”

For a moment, it was quiet, and Peter glanced shortly at Tony to notice that he was apparently waiting for an answer. “Okay.” 

“You didn’t seem particularly happy about your ACT results.”

Peter’s heart skipped a beat, a heavy weight settling on his chest and digging into his stomach.

“And I’ve been thinking about it and I think I know why.”

Peter stared at him, now not daring to look away in case it betrayed him.

Tony shook his head, his mouth pulling downward into a frown. “I just don’t know why you didn’t just _tell me_.” 

Peter swallowed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know … I didn’t know _how_.”

Tony sighed. “You know, I blame myself a little.”

Peter’s eyes widened in surprise. “What?” 

“I shouldn’t have pushed so hard for MIT. If you’d rather go to another university, that’s fine.” 

Peter swallowed, realizing that Tony had misunderstood the situation entirely. “I don’t …” He hesitated.

“I’m just saying,” Tony continued, “with a score like yours and a GPA like yours, you’ve got a lot of choices and just because _I_ think that MIT would be the best place for you, doesn’t mean you have to go there.” He smirked. “It’ll hurt my feelings just a bit.” He leaned forward and reached out, his hand settling warm and heavy on Peter’s shoulder. “Whatever you decide to do is fine.”

“I …” Peter swallowed, not quite sure what to say. He finally decided to go for a half-truth that would allow him to break the news slowly. Forcing a smile, he answered, “Of course, but I _want_ to try for MIT. Really. I’ve just …” He took a breath, steeling himself. “… been looking at other schools as well.”

Tony nodded, his expression curious. “Okay.” 

“Like … you know, city colleges.”

Tony frowned, pulling his hand back to wrap around the mug of tea. “City colleges?” 

“Yeah, you know, to … stay near Queens. Because of Spider-Man?”

Tony stared at him and the longer he did, the more Peter felt his cheeks heat. Tony looked as if city colleges were a foreign concept to him, as if he didn’t think Peter belonged there, as if it _wasn’t good enough_. 

He lost his nerves, his hands entwining tightly on his lap and his shoulder pulling up. He gave an embarrassed grin. 

Tony cleared his throat. “Pete, don’t get me wrong. City colleges are … there are some really good ones, but I don’t think they’ll provide the right kind of challenge for you.”

Peter ducked his head. “Right,” he said quickly. “Just a thought.”

“I mean,” Tony continued, “we could look into ESU, if you want to stay in the city. I think they’ve got a good program.” 

Peter’s ACT wasn’t good enough for ESU. But Tony didn’t know that … and judging by his reaction just now, Peter couldn’t tell him that. So he just nodded and focused back on his sandwich. 

***

Peter knew that he was failing the ACT while he was writing it. 

His thoughts were scattered, he couldn’t focus, every little noise in the room – every _squeak_ of a chair, every _scribble_ of a pen, every muffled _cough_ – distracted him, drilled into his skull and worsened the headache he was nursing.

He knew he’d failed when he handed the test in. 

***

Peter got a D on his History test. May got an e-mail from school.

“Do you know what this means, Peter?” she asked, her arms crossed over her chest, her face pinched tiredly and her shoulder tense.

She looked angry, but Peter knew she wasn’t. She was just tired because she’d been working more hours for the last week. She was just worried that she’d dropped the ball somewhere because _“it’s just the two of us now, Pete, we have to be there for each other”_. She was stressed because she’d had a minor argument with Happy and he’d left for a business trip with Pepper before they could make up. 

Peter knew all this but still, he felt like a complete failure. 

“Peter, your grades are slipping. Your GPA is 4.02, how is that even possible?”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

May stared at him. “You’re sorry?” She took her glasses off and rubbed her hands over her face. “Baby, I don’t want you to be sorry. I want to _understand_. Your teachers are saying that you’re not paying attention, that you can’t answer when called upon in class. That’s not like you.”

“I know.” 

May sighed. “You’re aware that the scholarship is depending on your GPA, right? If you drop under 4, we have a problem.”

He nodded.

“I can’t pay the full school fees.”

Peter pressed his lips together. “I know.”

Silence settled over them. Peter felt May’s eyes on him, watching him sit there, slumped at the kitchen table, and unable to explain. He was tired and he had a headache. He was craving one of May’s energy drinks. Just so that he could settle down at his desk and finally crack down on that AP Research outline. He didn’t even know yet what to write about.

May sat down opposite him and one of her hands reached out to touch his. It was meant to be comforting, he knew, but his senses were going a little haywire recently and her touch felt like sandpaper scratching over his skin, so he pulled his hand away. He didn’t miss the hurt flashing over her features. It made Peter feel even worse. 

May took a deep breath. “What’s going on, baby? This isn’t like you.”

Peter shrugged, feeling tears creep into the corner of his eyes. “I don’t know.” He sniffed. “But I failed the ACT again.”

“What? I thought results would only be posted-”

“I _know_ I did.”

May sighed deeply. “Oh, Peter.”

“What am I going to do?” he asked and wiped his wet cheeks. 

There were tears in May’s eyes as well, but her voice was strong when she answered, “You’re not going to give up. There must be a reason why you are failing. You’re so smart and you’re usually good with tests.”

Peter wiped his eyes. “I’m just so …” He swallowed. “Embarrassed.” 

The corners of May’s lips turned down. “Baby,” she said, “you’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about.” She cleared her throat. “Wait for the results, okay? And when you know for sure … you should tell Tony.”

He shook his head. “I _can’t_.”

“Peter, you _have_ to. Tony loves you. It’s unfair to keep him in the dark. He wouldn’t be angry, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I don’t think he’d be angry,” Peter said. “He’d be disappointed.”

“And I _know_ how you hate to disappoint people, but maybe he can help. Letting him know will already help.” 

Peter ducked his head.

“I won’t tell him,” May said. “But you _should_.”

Peter nodded reluctantly. “I’ll think about it.”

***

When Peter scored 13 in the ACT, he wasn’t even surprised. 

Ned and him got an A on their Chemistry presentation, but while May hugged and kissed him, telling him how proud she was, he just felt guilty, because it had been Ned who had done most of the work. 

His AP Research teacher Mr. Biel made him stay after class on the last day before winter break and told Peter in no uncertain terms that his outline was a mess. Peter nodded along as Mr. Biel told him to rewrite it over the winter break and gave him a sympathetic smile. 

Peter went home and curled up on the couch, trying to get a bit of sleep. He just wanted to go to his room and stay in bed for the whole winter break, but Tony, Pepper and Morgan had arrived at their city penthouse this morning and invited him and May to come over for dinner. 

Peter didn’t want to go. 

His head was pounding, and he felt tired beyond belief, his senses feeling like exposed nerves the world around him grated on all the time … but despite his efforts to fall asleep, he was unable to rest. It made tears well in his eyes because he was too tired to go over to Tony’s, too tired to patrol, too tired to do anything … it would only take one text to Tony to explain he didn’t feel good and wouldn’t be up for dinner, but he’d promised Morgan on the phone a couple of days ago that he would come and he couldn’t disappoint her. 

When May came home, he hadn’t slept for even a minute, listlessly staring at a _How I Met Your Mother_ re-run without actually paying attention. He took a shower and got changed, his head still trying to kill him, his eyes sensitive to the bright light in the bathroom. When he looked in the mirror, he noticed that he was paler than usual, the shadows under his eyes having grown more pronounced over the last week.

While May took her turn in the bathroom, Peter decided that he needed some caffeine if he wanted to take the full brunt of Morgan’s excitement. He opened the fridge, just to find that they were out of energy drinks. “Crap.” He closed the door and leaned his head against it … and to his absolute humiliation, tears started to run down his face. He wiped them away quickly, tugging on his sweater and straightening his shoulders to compose himself. He took a couple of deep breaths. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he whispered. 

His eyes fell on the can of instant coffee in the corner that May kept for times when their old coffee maker didn’t work properly. 

By the time May came out of the bathroom, he was sipping his second cup and his headache was starting to fade. May smiled at him when he offered her a cup as well. 

***

Morgan giggled, her fingers curled into Peter’s hair and her legs tight around his shoulders as he jogged through the massive living room of the penthouse. He made sure his hands had a firm grip on her waist before he jumped onto the couch. She shrieked with laughter, her hands settling around his neck as he jumped off the couch and dashed through the dining room, where May and Pepper were setting the table, into the big kitchen. He made a screeching noise when he slowed his steps and came to a stop next to the kitchen island, just behind Tony, who was stirring the pasta.

Tony glanced at them, his dark eyes warm with a suppressed smile. “Don’t break my child,” he said, “I’ll lose my deposit.”

“You’re small, daddy,” Morgan said, her hand reaching down to touch Tony’s head. “You’re tiny.”

Tony made a disgruntled face and poked his finger between Morgan’s ribs in retaliation, making her giggle and lean away from him. Usually, Peter wouldn’t have had an issue with that, but while the headache had almost cleared, he was still tired and since they’d arrived at the penthouse, Morgan had been occupying him non-stop. Her sudden motion backwards, away from Tony, caused him to overbalance. 

Tony didn’t even notice his stumble, already turning back to the stove, but Morgan did. She yelped when Peter stumbled backwards and only slapping his flat palm against the marble of the countertop kept him from toppling over, his other hand grabbing Morgan’s sweater frantically as he regained his balance. 

It was probably less his grip and more Morgan’s frantic grasp around his shoulders and neck that kept her from falling. 

He gasped, his fingers tight in the cotton of the sweater as Morgan started to giggle again. “That was funny.” 

Peter closed his eyes, the image of Morgan falling all-too-alive in his mind’s eye; he could imagine Morgan hitting her head on the floor or maybe against the countertop on her way down. He felt nauseous. “I think that’s enough,” he said hurriedly and deposited her on the floor before she could protest.

“No,” she said, her little hands grabbing his belt. “I want to ride, Peter.”

“I don’t want to anymore,” he answered.

“Leave Peter be, baby,” Pepper called from the dining room. “Come here, tell May about school.”

Morgan’s face lit up and she ran over towards them. Peter took a breath and leaned against the counter.

Tony smirked at him. “Don’t tell me you’re already exhausted. You’re too young for that.” 

Peter gave him a tired smile. 

Tony’s smirk dimmed slightly and he frowned. “Though you _do_ look tired.”

“It’s been a lot,” Peter answered.

“You keep saying that,” Tony replied, rolling his eyes. “Did you get the results for that second ACT?”

The question felt like a knife sliding between Peter’s ribs. “Oh,” he said. He thought about telling Tony, had decided to do so but … Morgan and Pepper were _right there_ , and they were going to have a nice meal in about ten minutes and … it wasn’t the right time. “Uh … no. There was a delay or something.” 

Tony’s eyebrows rose. “A delay?” 

Peter nodded. “Yeah, some … computer error or something.”

Tony looked at him and for a long second, Peter thought that he would call him out. Then he simply said, “Grab the strainer for me, would you?” and Peter hurried to comply.

***

After Morgan had been put to bed, May and Pepper retreated to the living room to chat over a glass of wine and Tony and Peter went to Tony’s office to work on simulations of a new version of the Iron Spider suit. While they had spent time in Tony’s garage at the cabin, working on Peter’s web-shooters and improvements to the London suit, this was the first time Tony let him see this particular design. The suit was floating between them as a holograph. It didn’t look much different from the other Iron Spider suit at first glance but, as Tony explained, it was more durable and more powerful and had a version of Karen installed that was purely focused on combat. Peter felt a chill go down his spine as he looked at it, the golden spider stretching over the chest plate and the dark red color making it look almost sinister. 

He noticed that Tony’s answers came slower than usual and he seemed preoccupied. He’d been very quiet during dinner, too. Peter suspected that his medication was making him drowsy. Since he felt exhausted himself, he could relate. He was glad that they wouldn’t have to drive back to the apartment tonight but were going to stay in the two guest rooms of the penthouse. 

He should probably go to bed soon, let Tony get some rest, catch up on his own sleep.

“I haven’t touched this design in years,” Tony said, distracting Peter from his thoughts. He was still looking at the holograph, his gaze wistful. “Not since before …” He trailed off, but Peter got the meaning.

“I hadn’t even used the first Iron Spider and you were already building the next version?”

Tony shrugged. “Can’t hurt to be prepared.”

Peter nodded slowly. 

They looked at the holograph silently for a short while, and Peter was just about to suggest that they head to bed, when Tony released a breath. “There’s no delay with the ACTs.”

Peter froze, his heart skipping high enough that it felt as if it was clawing its way out of his chest.

“The scores were posted this afternoon.”

Peter didn’t meet Tony’s eyes, instead fiddling with the holograph until Tony shut it down with a wave of his hand. There was nothing between Peter and Tony’s piercing eyes now. He hunched his shoulders a little and ducked his head.

“What’s your score, Peter?” Tony didn’t sound angry, he didn’t sound sad, he didn’t sound disappointed. His voice was gentle and inquiring, confused.

Peter met his eyes, but he found himself unable to answer. “I …” Even worse than lying to Tony was being caught at it.

“I knew something was off last time,” Tony continued, crossing his arms. “You’re not a good liar. I let it go.” He tilted his head. “Maybe I shouldn’t have.”

“I …” Peter hesitated.

Tony sighed. “So it’s not the kind of score that will get you into MIT,” he guessed. “That’s okay.”

Peter felt tears well up in his eyes. “It’s …” He ducked his head. “I messed up so bad.”

“I doubt that.”

“I did!” Peter insisted. “I did.” He took a deep breath and buried one hand in his hair, pulling at the strands as tears hovered in the corners of his eyes. “I didn’t score well enough for MIT,” he whispered. “I didn’t score well enough for _anything_.” He wiped his eyes. “It was 17 in the first test and 13 now.” 

Tony’s eyes widened. “What?” 

Peter shook his head. “I know it’s subpar. It’s …” He sobbed. “I tried so hard, Tony, I did. I really did. I studied _really_ hard and I … I don’t know why I failed, I don’t know …”

“Hey,” Tony said, pulling him into a hug and Peter buried his face against Tony’s shoulder with a sob. Tony’s good hand settled on the back of his head, warm and gentle. “Sh.” His fingers combed through Peter’s hair. “It’s okay.”

Peter wrapped his arms around him, tucking himself closer. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“I’m failing the ACT and my GPA is dropping and … my senses are all over the place, which makes patrol so hard and … I can’t sleep.” He heaved a deep, painful breath. “I can’t sleep, Tony. And I tried so hard.” 

Tony’s hand trailed up and down Peter’s back and he sounded pained when he answered, “I know you did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Pete.” His lips brushed Peter’s temple. “ _I’m_ sorry, okay?” He sighed. “I’m so sorry.”

***

Tony sipped on his beer, leaning against the balcony rail and looking out over East River, his eyes following the traffic on Queensborough Bridge. He was tired, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, so he’d watched Peter leave for his bedroom dejectedly and didn’t join Pepper and May in the living room. Instead, he’d come out here. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about Peter crying about his ACT, _apologizing_ for not getting a better grade. Yes, Tony had been surprised that Peter’s scores had been that low; the kid was _brilliant_. Tony had never thought that he would have to worry about Peter not being able to succeed academically. And maybe … maybe that had been the issue. Tony couldn’t help but wonder whether it was his fault, somehow … whether he hadn’t pushed too hard and expected too much after all. Peter was brilliant, yes, but he was also relentlessly dedicated to Spider-Man and – Tony took a deep breath – had been traumatized deeply not even a year ago. He smiled and he made jokes and he told Tony that he was fine, but sometimes, Tony couldn’t help but see the shadows in Peter’s eyes, the ones he knew from his own reflection in the mirror. The ones he’d seen only slightly lift since he’d woken from his coma and recovered. 

Peter was better, yes, but he wasn’t as fine as he liked to pretend.

“So he told you,” May said, coming to stand next to him. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from the wine she’d had, but her expression was earnest, her eyes searching.

Tony ducked his head. “Yeah.” 

“What do you think?”

Tony sipped on his beer and turned to look at her. “I’m trying to see where I went wrong.”

She frowned. “Wrong?” 

“What I did or said to make him …” He swallowed. “May, it was like … he was _scared_ of telling me. I’m just …” He shook his head.

May nodded, biting her lip. “Tony, it’s nothing _you_ did. Peter just didn’t want to disappoint you. And you know him, he tries to put his fires out himself and only calls for help when the house has burned down. He’s a lot like you in that regard.”

Tony looked at her, feeling slightly affronted.

May rolled her eyes. “Pepper and I _talk_.” 

Tony shook his head and sighed. He rubbed his forehead and finished the beer. “ _You_ knew about the tests. He didn’t have an issue telling _you_.”

She smiled. “That’s different. I’m his aunt. You’re Tony Stark.”

He huffed a breath. “I was hoping to be more.”

May tilted her head, regarding him silently for a long moment. “You’re the closest thing he’s got to a father right now, Tony, you _must_ believe that. He _loves_ you.” She shrugged. “But a small part of him will _always_ see you as Tony Stark, genius and Iron Man. He will _always_ try to live up to that, especially now that he understands you believe he _can_.” 

He ducked his head.

“If it’s any consolation, he tends to do that with father figures. He didn’t tell Ben that he was being bullied until we had to pick him up from the school nurse with a concussion. He thought Ben would be disappointed in him if he knew Peter was letting himself be pushed around. You know, because Ben was a police officer.”

Tony looked at her and she smiled at him.

“You did nothing wrong,” May said.

“If I hadn’t mentioned MIT so much,” Tony replied, “maybe he would have felt more comfortable coming to me.” 

“You’re not the one who put him under pressure, Tony, he managed to do that himself just fine.”

Tony closed his eyes.

“Remind you of someone?” May asked and went back inside.

***

Tony stayed out in the cold a little while longer, until Pepper came to tell him goodnight. Still feeling too wound up to sleep, he settled down at the computer in his office and pulled up some general information on the ACTs before he logged into Midtown High’s portal to check on Peter’s grades. May had given him her access data a while ago but Tony had never used it before. Now, he felt that he should get the whole picture. Peter’s GPA wasn’t a disaster, but it was clear that his performance had started to take a nosedive a few weeks ago and now, it was getting a little too close for comfort to that threshold that guaranteed Peter’s scholarship. 

Tony knew that Peter suffered from nightmares and bouts of anxiety since his return from the dead, but Pepper had arranged for him to see a therapist while Tony was still in a coma, suspecting a case of PTSD, and Peter had improved a lot as a result of those sessions. The whole Mysterio business had thrown part of that progress out of the window, of course, but Peter had managed to deal, for the most part, with the help of therapy, and also his newfound romance with MJ. 

Peter had worked pretty hard since his return, splitting last summer between visiting Tony and writing make-up tests to be allowed to progress into his junior year instead of having to repeat his sophomore year, which he hadn’t managed to finish due to the Blip. He’d done very well in all his subjects and had started the new school year off perfectly before the trip to Europe. Tony double-checked the dates of entry for the grades and noticed that the decline only started a few weeks after that trip. So it was likely not _just_ the experience with Mysterio that was causing the issue or even the PTSD. Tony had a feeling that there was _another_ trigger somewhere. 

He startled when there was movement by the door and looked up to see Peter standing there in an oversized t-shirt and pajama pants, his eyes tired and his hair askew.

Tony frowned. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Peter answered. He crossed his arms, lingering under the door.

“I thought we decided that you need some sleep.”

“I can’t sleep,” Peter answered. “I’m really _tired_ but … it’s like … I’m lying in the dark and I feel really jittery. And when I manage to nod off, I just … wake up again.”

“Does that happen a lot?”

“Recently?” Peter asked. “Yeah.” He rubbed his eyes. “I thought … maybe you’re still up.”

“I was about to head to bed,” Tony answered, shutting down his computer.

“Oh,” Peter replied, his face falling. “Well, I can just-”

“But we can watch some tv, see how you feel after.”

Peter nodded slowly. “Okay. Yeah. Sounds good.”

***

Tony had lowered the volume of the tv by the time Peter’s head started to get heavy against his shoulder. He felt his own eyes slide shut slowly, losing the battle against his tiredness as well. He relaxed, sinking further into the couch and against Peter, their warm little corner of the couch bathed in the soft lights of the penthouse. Tony knew the tv would switch itself off eventually and it provided a great murmuring background noise he could fall asleep to. 

Suddenly, though, Peter moved, just for a second, jerking as if he’d been startled by someone. 

It was enough to rouse Tony a bit and he craned his neck to look down at Peter’s face, noticing that his eyes were blinking awake slowly before he let out a frustrated sound. Tony raised the hand he’d put on the back of the couch and brushed his fingers through Peter’s hair. “Go back to sleep.”

“I can’t,” Peter whispered. 

Tony hummed softly in answer, his fingers tracing to the back of Peter’s head and then up again. “Try.” 

Peter went boneless against him again, letting out a sigh. 

Tony watched the tv, not really understanding what was being said and having lost track of the plot a long time ago. He felt Peter shift a little closer, his legs coming up to tuck onto the couch. Tony put his arm around Peter’s shoulders, making it easier for him to get comfortable against his side. They didn’t do this often. Hugging had become pretty common for them after Tony had woken from his coma and they’d grown a lot closer in general, so it felt like a natural progression, but Tony was still a bit startled every time it happened. Sometimes, Tony wondered whether they would ever have grown this close if Thanos hadn’t happened or if Peter hadn’t died. In those moments, he didn’t quite know whether he shouldn’t be grateful that they want through all of that. 

He didn’t even realize he’d started to hum a melody until Peter turned his head to look up at him with a sleepy smile. 

“Are you singing to me?”

Tony felt just slightly embarrassed and covered it with a raise of his eyebrows. “No, I’m _humming_.”

Peter’s smile grew softer and he put his head back against Tony’s shoulder. “It’s nice,” he whispered. They sat there for a little while longer, Tony humming every now and again while Peter’s breaths grew deeper. 

Peter woke up another six times during the night. Tony was there to lull him back to sleep every time.

***

Tony met May on his way to the kitchen the next morning, while Peter was still asleep on the couch. She was dressed, already in jeans and a green sweater and looked far too awake for this hour. The winter sunlight was just starting to crawl into the penthouse, bathing the living room and kitchen into a washed-out, yellow light. Tony expected Morgan to wake up soon, keeping an ear out to try and be ready to stop her from waking up Peter, who had dark shadows under his eyes even in sleep. Tony hadn’t slept properly himself, only dozing off to wake whenever Peter would stir.

May pointed towards the living room with a questioning expression and he nodded, “He’s sleeping, though.” 

“I’ll just check on him,” she answered softly.

“Coffee?” he asked. 

“That would be great.” 

Tony started the coffee machine, hoping that the noise of the beans grinding wouldn’t be loud enough to disturb Peter. 

May joined him a few moments later, frowning worriedly. “He still looks exhausted.”

“We didn’t sleep much,” Tony replied. “He kept waking up.”

May nodded and took the mug Tony handed her, warming her hands against it. “I need to get him back onto a healthy sleeping cycle,” she said. “I just … I don’t know what he needs to get there.” She sighed. “I doubt he knows himself.”

Tony opened the fridge to get eggs out and paused shortly when he saw the energy drinks Peter preferred recently stored there. “First off, he needs to stop with those drinks.”

“I know,” May said, settling at the kitchen island. “The amount of sugar in them is disturbing. I read articles about what those drinks can do to kids. I will stop buying them and I was going to talk to him about it when we get home today.”

Butter sizzled as Tony dropped it into the pan, frowning thoughtfully.

“I mean,” May continued, “he’s on five or six drinks a day, that can’t be good for him. Never mind those spider powers.”

Tony paused, slightly startled, and looked at her in disbelief. “That many?”

“You didn’t notice?”

He hadn’t. Then again, Peter hadn’t been with them for longer than a weekend since he’d started to get stressed, so they hadn’t really had the chance to notice. Or maybe Tony hadn’t paid proper attention because Peter’s healing factor made him pretty resistant against the more harmful effects those drinks could potentially have. All that sugar and B vitamins and taurine and … he turned to May abruptly, his eyes wide.

“What?” she asked. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“No,” Pepper said, pecking Tony’s cheek as she passed him. “That’s his ‘I’m a genius’ face.”

“I _am_ a genius,” Tony said automatically and then opened the fridge to get one of the bottles out. “There’s _caffeine_ in here.” He put down the bottle and got out his phone, typing into the search engine.

Pepper rolled her eyes and nudged him aside to crack the eggs into the pan. “You really _are_ a genius.” 

“No, no, no,” Tony said, looking at her. “NASA gave _spiders_ caffeine.” He found what he was looking for and displayed the picture as a holograph. It was a black and white picture of a spider web, but the angles of the construction were off, the web looking oddly wonky.

May frowned. “NASA gave spiders caffeine? _Why_?”

“No,” Tony said, shaking his head. “’Why’ is not the issue here. The issue is that they gave a _spider_ caffeine and the spider did _this_.” He pointed at the picture. “It’s a mess, no structure, no grace, no … it’s like the spider lost the ability to …”

“Think,” May said, her eyes wide as well now.

Pepper frowned. “You think that’s it?” 

May shook her head, looking at Tony. “Are you sure? He’s been having energy drinks and coffee and coke for years, even after the bite and it never had this effect on him or I would have stopped it sooner.” Her eyes found the picture of the web again and she bit her lip. “I mean, I _did_ notice that he became a bit more … energetic than he used to before the bite, like it was affecting him more easily, but never to this extreme. Nothing a bit of patrolling and blowing off some steam couldn’t handle.” 

“But his intake changed, didn’t it?” Tony asked. “He’s been having more of those drinks and maybe he reached a point where it became too much for his spider DNA to cope.”

Pepper put a hand between Tony’s shoulder blades, rubbing gently. “You don’t think it could be the PTSD?”

Tony swallowed. “The PTSD feeds into it, I think,” he answered. “Maybe.” He shook his head and looked at May. “I’m just guessing. I hope that this is the explanation but … I don’t _know_.” He glanced towards the living room. “We have to hope it is.”

***

Tony was pouring himself his third cup of coffee when Peter came into the kitchen. Morgan had gotten to him before any of the adults had been able to caution her, running to the couch and waking Peter up excitedly to ask whether they could go ice-skating. Tony had made Morgan some breakfast to distract her. Afterwards, May and Pepper had quickly bundled her up and left, giving the two of them some space. 

Now, Peter entered the kitchen, his hair askew and his eyes still bleary. He yawned, reaching out a hand to the cup Tony was holding out for him and cradling it close. He pulled a face when he caught the scent wafting out of it. “What is that?”

“We call it tea,” Tony answered. “It’s a hot beverage that serves as a perfect alternative for coffee.”

Peter looked at him. “I don’t want tea.”

“Too bad. You’re having it.”

“I want coffee.”

“No,” Tony answered. 

Peter’s eyes showed something not unlike betrayal when he asked, “But … why not?”

Tony smiled and ruffled his hair. “Have a seat, kid. We need to talk.”

“Am I in trouble?” Peter settled at the breakfast bar, sniffing the tea before taking an experimental sip.

“Not really, no,” Tony answered. He cleared his throat while he moved eggs and bacon from the pan onto a plate for Peter and set it down in front of him. “What do you know about the NASA experiments on spiders?” 

Peter frowned thoughtfully. “That’s … random.” He rubbed his eyes and picked up the fork. “I know that they tested substances on them, like Marijuana and LSD.”

“They also tested caffeine,” Tony said. He settled in the chair next to Peter, turning to face him. 

Peter paused, looking at him. 

Tony displayed the picture he’d shown Pepper and May. 

Peter’s eyes narrowed quizzically as he took in the picture. “I don’t …”

“Spiders are affected negatively by caffeine,” Tony said. “And I guess human teenagers with spider DNA are affected negatively as well.”

Peter swallowed, his eyes still staring at the picture.

“Too much coffee and those energy drinks … they scrambled your brain, kid,” Tony explained gently. “To a point where you didn’t manage to focus on the ACT, causing you-”

“To fail,” Peter whispered. When he looked up, his eyes were wet. “Tony.” He looked like he wanted to believe him, desperately, but a sliver of doubt was holding him back. Tony hated that Peter had lost so much confidence in himself in such a short amount of time.

“You had that accident during patrol the night before the first test and I guess that you downed energy drinks to be able to still write it?”

Peter nodded. 

“More than one, shortly before the test started?”

Another nod. “I … I was tired.”

Tony set his phone down, the picture hanging between them. “It’s okay, Peter.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure it’s the reason, but it’s a pretty safe bet.” He reached out a hand to grasp Peter’s shoulder, his eyes making sure to hold Peter’s. “But … even if it isn’t the caffeine, even if you get bad grades until the day you leave school, I don’t want you to ever think that you can’t talk to me about it, okay?”

Peter’s chest hitched. “I just … didn’t want to fail you,” he whispered. 

Tony shook his head. “That’s impossible.” 

***

Peter stopped having any kind of caffeine. He never thought it would be this hard. 

Three days in, he felt exhausted, his head hammering, a constant ache residing just behind his eyes. He slept a lot. His symptoms lined up with those of caffeine withdrawal but were enhanced by his spider DNA. Curled up on the couch at home or in Tony’s workshop or in the penthouse’s living room, trying to escape the constant pain behind his eyes by just sleeping it away, Peter learned to really regret having been bitten by a spider. 

But May was there to brush his hair out of his forehead and Tony was there to distract him and Pepper was there to teach him the finer points of tea and Morgan was there to make him laugh. 

It got better and when Peter dared to take a practice ACT test just after Christmas, keeping it a secret from everyone but Ned who did the scoring, it proved to be worth it. 

He scored 28.

***

“Okay,” Tony said, leaning towards Peter a bit to look out the passenger window of his car, as if Midtown High was harboring some dark secret. “This is the place. Should I wait here?”

Peter turned to stare at him in slight disbelief. “The test will take _hours_.”

Tony shrugged. “I’ve got a phone. I can keep busy.”

Peter couldn’t help but smile at the offer. “You’ve done enough already”, he answered. Tony had come to stay in the city last night and picked Peter up for breakfast this morning before driving him here for the ACT. “You don’t need to wait. You can just come back later.” He looked out the window towards school and felt a flash of nervousness. His hands tightened around the strap of his backpack and he took a deep breath, distractedly checking whether he’d remembered to pack a bottle of water.

Tony’s hand settled on the back of his neck. “You got this,” he said quietly and smiled when Peter looked at him.

Peter swallowed. He knew he was better, he’d studied and practiced and he was _ready_. But a small sliver of doubt crept in nonetheless. Hesitantly, he asked, “Tony?” 

“Yeah?” 

“What if I can’t …” He met Tony’s eyes. “If I don’t …” He trailed off.

Tony shook his head, his eyes earnest and his fingers, squeezing Peter’s nape gently. “You got this.” 

Peter stared at him, then he nodded slowly, and took a deep breath to whisper, “I got this.”

“You got this,” Tony repeated. 

Peter held his gaze for one moment longer, then he shook himself and got out of the car. He paused before slamming the door closed and leaned back down. “Thanks, Tony.” 

When he settled at a table near the window and looked outside in passing, he noticed Tony’s car still in the parking lot. It was there every time he checked.

***

The text message came a few weeks later, simple and to the point, very unlike Peter. 

_**35 :)** _

Tony released a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding, his shoulders sagging and his lips pulling into a smile. 

He was _relieved_. 

For a moment, he felt guilty, because he shouldn’t feel that way. He should be _happy_ that Peter had scored so well, not _relieved_ that he’d done it. It made him wonder how he would have reacted if Peter hadn’t written a good test this time around. 

“You have expectations,” Pepper said later, sipping on her tea while rain drummed against the windows of the cabin. Tony was packing a suitcase, intending to drive into the city once he’d dropped off Morgan at school in the morning.

He’d paused a while ago already, fiddling with a MIT cap, unsure whether it was an appropriate gift, whether he would put pressure on Peter by giving this to him, place expectations on him he didn’t want. “I shouldn’t. I _shouldn’t_ expect him to pass the ACT, to get into MIT. Expectations are a reason me and my father didn’t get along.”

“It depends on how they’re handled,” Pepper said. “Your father used them as a condition for his affection.” She took the cap from him and put it in the suitcase, kissing his cheek. “You’re not like him.”

***

Peter came by the penthouse after patrol and just before his curfew at midnight and went to change into a comfortable sweatshirt and pajama pants before joining Tony in the kitchen and starting to ramble about a net he’d spun in an abandoned warehouse. “You should’ve seen it, Tony, it was so cool. It was spanning the whole room,” he said, already busy unlocking his phone and shoving it into Tony’s field of vision, distracting him from assembling a massive sandwich to quell the post-patrol hunger. 

The web _was_ pretty cool, Tony had to admit. It spun the warehouse from one end to the other, looking like the extremely enlarged picture of a normal spider web. Instinctively, Tony found himself looking for any structural weaknesses, any similarities to the web the NASA’s spider had spun, but he couldn’t find any. 

It was just a spider web in an abandoned warehouse in Queens, a bit out of place, oddly beautiful … and utterly pointless. “Glad to see you’re being economical with your webbing.”

Peter pouted a little, his eyebrows drawing together. “It was an _experiment_.”

“It’s a very beautiful web,” Tony added, smiling at him. 

A grin spread over Peter’s features. “Right? Unfortunately, it takes too long to spin it or it would be the perfect way to web up criminals.” With that, he turned and headed for the living room.

“Yeah,” Tony called after him sarcastically and turned back to the sandwich. “I bet the NYPD would be thrilled.”

His only answer was the sound of the tv switching on. He finished up the sandwich and poured Peter a glass of juice before joining him. Peter was stretched out on the couch, his eyes fixed on the tv and already at half-mast. Tony had expected that much. Patrol was usually followed by a bit of an energy crash. 

“Don’t fall asleep, I come bearing food.”

“Food,” Peter muttered and rubbed his eyes. He sat up to lean against the armrest, his legs stretched out on the cushions. 

Tony nudged his ankle until Peter made a bit of space for him and handed over the plate. He gave Peter time to quell the worst of his hunger, not quite watching the show Peter had chosen to watch. Something with cowboys in space, apparently. “Are you doing okay?” 

Peter nodded, a bit distracted by the tv. 

“No caffeine?” Tony asked.

“None,” Peter answered. He turned to look at Tony with a grin. “I’m good.”

“Are you?” Tony was asking about the PTSD this time and Peter knew that. 

His expression dimmed a little and he shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“Nightmares?” 

“Sometimes.”

“Flashbacks?” 

“Not in a while.”

Tony nodded, satisfied for the moment, and decided to change the topic. He grabbed the plastic bag off the coffee table. “I’ve got something for you.”

Peter set the plate aside and wiped his hands on his pajama pants. His eyes widened when Tony handed the MIT cap over. “Cool!” he said, putting it on immediately. He grinned at Tony, looking happier than he’d been in months. “Thank you.” 

His reaction was genuine, as far as Tony could determine and he knew he was probably being paranoid, but the last couple of months still sat heavy on his mind and he couldn’t help but make sure. “I don’t insist on this, you know that, right?”

Peter frowned. “What?” 

“I don’t insist on … on you going to MIT. Even though you _do_ have the scores and the mind. But I’d write a recommendation letter for any school. No pressure.”

Peter took the cap off, setting it on the coffee table slowly before his eyes found Tony’s. “Why are you telling me that?”

“So that you know.”

“I do,” Peter said with a slight frown. “You’re not pressuring me.”

Tony watched him, looking for any sign of a lie or omitted truth. He didn’t find any. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Peter replied, slumping into Tony’s side and leaning his head against his shoulder. 

Later, when the credits were rolling and Peter was half-asleep, Tony felt way too comfortable to move. He considered staying on the couch for the rest of the night, but he knew that his back would probably not forgive him for that. Peter shifted a bit, getting more comfortable, and Tony wrapped an arm around his shoulders in response. 

Peter heaved a deep sigh. “You’re doing it again,” he whispered.

“Doing what?” Tony asked. 

“Humming.” 

“Should I stop?”

Peter shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “I like it.”

Tony chuckled. “I think it’s time for bed, Underoos.”

Huffing a breath, Peter muttered, “Just five more minutes.”

“Okay,” Tony said. “Five more minutes.”

He fell asleep after three.

END  
November 19


End file.
